


practice dad

by kenopsia (indie)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Male Affection, Male Role Models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames has something to say to his father, but first he needs to warm up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	practice dad

“Dad,” Eames says, and almost chokes on his own rising panic. “I’m not — I can’t — I’m, um.”

“You’ve got this, champ,” Mr. Collins says, eyes on him, serious.

“Dad,” Eames tries again, swallowing hard. “I just want you to know, because you’re important to me, that I don’t think I like girls. And I don’t want you to be disappointed that I’m not the son you wanted—” Eames flounders for a long moment, tense and unhappy, which is ridiculous.  

Mr. Collins grabs him by his shoulders. “You’re going to be fine. I’m proud of you and I didn’t even raise you.” Mr. Collins moves away from him, like he wants to get a proper look at him, hands still resting on his arms.

Eames feels like a child, water welling in his eyes. “You’re different, though. You love everyone,” he says, making a clumsy generalization to avoid saying _you didn’t raise Arthur, either, but somehow you’re the world’s best dad._

“I’m just a dad, Eames. If your dad loves you the way he should, he’ll be off-balance but not unkind, and if he isn’t, you know we’ve got a spare bedroom. Got your stuff in it and everything.”

Eames wants to snort, but he knows Mr. Collins is making an offer as genuine as they come. The thing is, his exchange year will draw to a close soon; he doesn’t plan on telling his dad until he goes home, an ocean away, and it’s not like he’s going to call the Collins and ask them to bail him out if things go south.

“I know I’m a coward,” Eames says. “It’s just, so easy to not say anything. Especially when I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You will, though. Eventually. This year or next year or when you’re twenty five. Don’t you want a chance to do this in steps? Imagine having to tell him that you’re gay and that you’ve met someone.”

“I guess,” Eames says. It’s almost funny because Mr. Collins had definitely taken some convincing that Eames wasn’t dating his son. Not in a nasty way, but he’d been so convinced earlier in the school year that he’d waited for an opportunity to catch Eames alone to sit down to have a _talk_ with him.

Panicked, Eames had tried desperately to convince him otherwise, that he and Arthur were just friends, great friends, the best Eames had ever had, but they weren’t boyfriends.

Be that as it may, Mr. Collins had said, and launched into a very thorough, and very kind lecture on physically safe and emotionally fulfilling sexuality, with a time for questions at the end. There had been a brief foray into _consent_ and _healthy self esteem_. He’d even thrown in some things about toxic masculinity.

He’d apologized, but told him he was pretty sure Eames wasn’t out to his own father (a correct assumption) so who knew what he’d covered in his primitive version of this speech in years previous. Plus, he’d added emphatically, it’s not like he could trust the media to tell him anything honest about sex.

Eames had felt strangely cracked open, sitting with him at the breakfast bar, hands warm around a mug of coffee. His own father hadn’t really given him any talk that resembled this one in the slightest, foregoing it to instead put a subtle box of condoms in his bathroom.

Eames had wanted to say thank you, but didn’t know how.

Now, though. He doesn’t want to let the moment pass. He know he sounds awkward, because he has no idea how to tell another adult male how much of an impact he’s made on him, but he knows he needs to. “Mr. Collins,” he says, tongue leaden. “You’ve been really, this year, just more than… important. You’ve taught me a lot this year.”

Mr. Collins pulls him into a hug. He’s older than Eames’ own father, and softening in places that Eames’ father hasn’t, yet, but when he crushes him against his chest, Eames can feel the raw power dormant in him.

“You’re a good man, Eames, and you’ll always be welcome in my house,” he says, and then, ridiculously, kisses the top of Eames’ head.

Eames is not going to cry.

“I wish,” he says. He has no idea what he wishes, and then, suddenly, he realizes what he meant to say, and it makes him feel like a terrible person, because it’s not like his own father is a mountain troll.

“You never know where life will take you, my boy,” Mr. Collins says, “how people stay in each other’s lives.”

Eames is reminded of his private thought that he and Arthur aren’t dating now, but. They haven’t talked about it, but Eames has a feeling that they both know the same things: that they’re living together during Eames’ exchange student and he doesn’t want to jeopardize his living situation, and they’re young and about to be worlds away so Eames can do his last year of secondary at home, but he’s got this feeling, deep down, that he and Arthur aren’t done. They’ve got a string they haven’t played out yet. It feels almost inexorable.

He wonders if Mr. Collins is thinking the same thing. He probably isn’t. Can’t possibly be standing there, thinking of Eames, who is always in trouble and has a muddled mess of grades, and thinking of him as a son-in-law. He could absolutely do better. Eames gives himself a few minutes to pretend anyway, because as father-in-laws go, he absolutely couldn’t. He echoes his words, agreeing, a little light headed. “You never know.”


End file.
